No Fairy Tale Romance
by DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: Both knew that this wasn't the start of a fairy tale romance, particularly with everything going on in the world, but it felt good to know that there was someone there for them to depend on.


**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Written for;**

 **Every Character** \- John Dawlish

 **Build Your Cube** \- Flicker

 **Mortal Kombat** \- Kurtis Stryker

 **100 Ways to say I love you** \- "I like your laugh."

 **100 Pairings** \- JohnAmelia

 **Build A Fic** \- JohnAmelia / "Do you ever think that there's really no purpose for us?" / Coffee / Regretful / Impossible

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 _Written for Amber, who I absolutely adore._

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 **No Fairy Tale Romance**

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She sunk into her chair, her head falling into her hands almost immediately. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She was tired, mentally, physically, she was completely exhausted. What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to deal with the never ending cascade of murder and mayhem that Voldemort and his merry band of muppets were reigning down on both their world and the muggle world?

They'd managed to keep it under control, or under wraps at the very least, since Voldemort announced his return via Ministry appearance, but in the few short weeks since then, they were escalating the violence almost daily.

"Amelia?"

She looked up, nodding a greeting to John Dawlish as he entered her office.

"You can give me your report tomorrow, John," she muttered. "I'm far too tired to listen to it tonight. Besides, I was there. I know exactly what happened this evening."

"Actually, I came to see if you wanted a drink. I know I need one."

She shook her head, regretful. "I can't. I really can't. I have to be on my game at the moment."

"One drink won't hurt. Might make you feel better."

That shocked a laugh out of her, and she shook her head, a bitter amusement on her face. "That would be impossible, I fear."

John smiled lightly. "I like your laugh. You should do it more often."

"Not much to laugh about at the moment, is there? Get yourself home, Dawlish. You did well tonight."

"At least let me get you a coffee. You look dead on your feet, Amelia."

Sighing, she shook her head but smiled at him. "One drink. Then I really do need to get home and try and get a few hours sleep. Tomorrow is going to be an absolute nightmare from start to finish."

John grinned, flashing the bottle of firewhiskey he'd been hiding behind his back. "Got glasses?"

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"Do you ever think that there's really no purpose for us?" Amelia slurred, staring unfocused at the Auror.

He shook his head. "No. We might not be able to stop them all, but we're holding our own at the moment. You're doing a good job, Amelia. Don't doubt that."

She shrugged, spilling a little of her drink on the desk. "I just can't see an end to this madness. It feels like we're fighting for nothing."

John stood up, leaving his drink on the desk as he rounded it. He placed hands on either side of her chair as he leant forward. "We're fighting for our lives, Amelia, but while we're doing that, you shouldn't forget to live."

Leaning forward slowly enough for her to push him away, he pressed his lips to hers. They were slightly chapped where she'd been worrying them, but they were soft and warm as he knew they'd be, and he lifted a hand to rest against her cheek, guiding her in a kiss that quickly turned from comforting to passionate. Amelia wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him further down against her, making him almost lose his balance. Instead of crushing her, he wrapped a strong arm around her waist and pulled her from the chair.

Shifting her to the desk, he swept the papers that had been resting there away, leaving a space for him to lean her back, covering her torso with his own as he continued to kiss her, roughly, passionately, all teeth and tongue.

They broke for air and he saw a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. Pulling back slightly, he raised his eyebrow.

"If you want me to stop, I will," he assured her quietly.

She shook her head. "No, no, it's not that. I just... John. You make me feel...

"Alive?" he offered.

"Alive," She confirmed, pulling him back down to meet her.

Their coupling was clumsy at first, the alcohol and position making it slightly uncomfortable for both until they found their rhythm. Once found, they were frantic, occasionally knocking more things off Amelia's desk as they each clawed at the others skin, wanting to touch and feel and taste as much as they could. Neither gave thought to anyone who could be passing in the corridor, as their moans and groans and grunts reached a crescendo, followed by harsh pants when it was over.

Messy, desperate and clumsy though it was, John smiled at Amelia as they cleaned themselves up. Both knew that this wasn't the start of a fairy tale romance, particularly with everything going on in the world, but it felt good to know that there was someone there for them to depend on, to maybe illicit a smile or the occasional laugh in the midst of the worry and fear surrounding them.

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 _The following morning, Kingsley Shacklebolt and John Dawlish were called out to a house attack. Amelia Bones was dead._


End file.
